The Way We Feel

Chapter 15

(So, I don't usually do this, but I feel this chapter should come with a bit of a warning. While I always try to write to make you feel, there's particularly sensitive subject matter ahead... Just don't want anyone to feel blindsided. Lots of love. xx)

I stared at the wall. The blank wall. The blank, white, but vaguely beige wall. It was textured. Bumpy. There was a speck of black on it that I'd thought was a spider at first, but it hadn't moved since I'd been here, fully awake, again.

It was the only thing I could focus on.

I could sense, in that hazy way after being asleep, that there were people around. I could hear the noises of their movement. I could hear the rumble of voices. But nothing really registered. Because if I let any of that really register, even for a second, the pain started to register again, too.

There it was. A thorough and distressing ache in my chest, my stomach. I squeezed my eyes closed, shutting out the world around me. Only to start running through the day once more as I waited for the ache to subside—even though remembering was the last thing I wanted to do.

Everything had seemed so normal this morning. Better than normal. Everything had started out well. Beautifully. Happily. As every morning had for the last several weeks.

It was still chilly in the small town of Holmes Chapel, but the sun was shining, and the suggestion of warmth in the air was enough to buoy me as Anne and I headed out for the day, just the two of us. Harry had decided to meet with his father for lunch a couple hours away. We'd told him the news about the baby yesterday afternoon, and Des had asked him if he wanted to spend some time together before we headed back to New York.

Harry was hesitant, but I'd insisted that he should, so Harry headed out this morning to meet his father for some quality time together.

Anne and I had decided to take the opportunity to share a day together as well. Gemma had gone back to London the day after we arrived, and Robin was working anyway. And besides, we hadn't spent any one-on-one time together since before the wedding, so I was eager to hang out with her in Harry's home town.

It was strange to reminisce about a feeling you'd had only a few hours ago. Strange to look back and think that I might never know what it was to feel that calmness, that contented kind of happiness, ever again.

But that was all I was able to think now, as I lay here, curled up in this bed, staring at the wall. At that black speck that seemed to ground me and stabilize me all at once.

I would never know that happiness again.

We'd been at lunch. A pretty cafe I'd been to once before with Anne and Harry. We'd loved it then, and I loved it today, too. I ordered a lemonade. It was different from the lemonade in America--fizzier, but still the perfect balance of tart and sweet. My chicken panini was delicious. I ate all my fries. We ordered tea afterwards and sat for a while, just chatting.

Anne was always so easy to chat to. She'd felt like another mother from the moment I'd met her. Her smile was warm, and she listened just like Harry did—with her eyes on you at all times. With the intention of hearing you, not just in anticipation of responding. She toyed with her necklace sometimes while she listened. And her input was always relevant and thoughtful—never did she preach or pretend to care. She really did. It was what I loved about her son, and it was what I loved about her.

Among many other things.

We were readying to leave. She'd insisted on taking care of the check despite my protests, smiling at me when she'd said with a wink, "You're going to need to start saving up for the little one."